Three

Dear Lyla,

Today is your third birthday.  You woke up at 5 am today.  I woke shortly thereafter to a repetitive chorus of "Mooommmmeeeee."  After hearing it about 16 times, I shuffled into your room to see what was going on.  We had a very short exchange.

"Lyla, it's 5 in the morning."
"I made pee pee."
(I check)
"No, you didn't."
"Can I sleep with you for a little second?"

I didn't hesitate as I lifted you from your crib.  I justified it by saying that it is your birthday, but who am I kidding?  I would have picked you up any night.  I would have thought it was okay because "Some kids always get up at 5 am" or "She'll go right back to sleep in our bed."  We got to our bed and I laid down the rules -- "You have to go back to sleep and no touching my neck." More on that later.  "And, Happy Birthday, Baby Girl."  We lay there, staring at each other for a few minutes, and then you pulled out your paci and gave me a big,  wet kiss on the lips.  You went back to sleep.  I did not.

As I have been thinking about your upcoming birthday, my thought pattern has bounced back and forth between "She is so big" and "She will always be my baby."  Both are true.

You have an amazing spirit.  You know that life is good and you don't sweat the small stuff.  If you fall or get knocked down, you typically say "I'm okay, it was just an accident."  If we are missing a toy, you shrug it off with "it will turn up 'ventually."  And my personal favorite, whenever something doesn't go right, you say "ain't no thang."  It is a great attitude.  Don't ever lose that.

You are the best.  snuggler.  ever.  You still like to climb on top of me (despite my growing belly) and nestle your way into my every crevice.  When we find our groove, we can sleep in a perfect formation like it is no one's business.  Lately, you have this odd habit of needing to rub your hands endlessly over my neck in this strange repetitive motion.  I've declared my neck off limits for snuggling sessions and you are now starting to molest my cheeks or my ears to compensate.  You also have a sentimental side.  On Valentine's Day you declared that Daddy and I "were your heart."  And sometimes, out of nowhere, you will tell me you need a "big hug and a five second kiss."

You are a ball of energy lately, especially right before bedtime.  Whether it is playing soccer, ballet or pretending you are ice skating/horseback riding/playing ping pong/flying an airplane, you fully utilize our 963 square feet.  As you run around, your sweet little blonde curls bounce around your head with a life of their own. Sometimes you just act as my shadow, following my every move and asking for narration along the way.

You are a great conversationalist.  If we are sitting quietly eating breakfast, you will bring up some random topic to break the silence.  When you were on vacation, you and your Daddy were sitting at the table when you said "Boy, it sure is windy today."  Daddy responded with a simple "Yeah, I think it is." Not satisfied to end the conversation, you changed the topic.  "Daddy, I think the new park is going to be ready soon."  When we leave a movie or museum, you'll ask "what was your favorite part?"  In the past few days, you've started to ask me how my day was when we are eating dinner.

You love pop music, along with reggae and rock and roll.  When you hear a song, you ask "Is this Lady Gaga" and can sing the chorus to The Edge of Glory, Moves Like Jagger, Pumped Up Kicks and Sexy and I Know it.  You can also sing Bob Marley's Three Little Birds and Joan Jett's I Love Rock 'N Roll ("put another dime in the juicebox baby").

You count and spell all day long.  Everything has to be counted out several times before you can commit to a number.  "Lyla, it's time for bed."  "How about 1-2-3-4-5 minutes?"  You have also gotten really great at recognizing your letters and spelling out words.  You can look at pretty much any word and correctly identify the letters.  And in your most confident voice,  when you are looking at your flash cards, you will say P-U-P-P-Y spells baby doggie.  When we are in a restaurant, you will start to spell whatever you see around you to keep yourself occupied -- F-O-R-K, P-L-A-T-E, etc.  Your latest thing is trying to tell time.  You have this little Dora watch you stare at incessantly before declaring "It's 8 o'clock!"

You love animals of every kind, real or stuffed.  Your crib is full of "best buddies" that you sleep with including dogs, cats, snakes, bunnies and frogs.  You love to reminisce about trips to the zoo/aquarium/pet stores.  You say "Remember last night (you have no concept of time -- everything that occurred in the past occurred last night or yesterday), when we went to the aquarium with Grandma and Aunt Dina and Nicolas and Chrissy and we saw the baby croc.  Yeah, I poked him in the eye.  Yeah, that was fun.  What other animals did we see?"  We put a picture of Irish at your eye level in our book cases and you have reminded Daddy about a dozen times that that was his dog when he was growing up.  Sometimes you pout and say "I want a real dog."  It hasn't gotten you anywhere yet.

Your sense of humor is slightly sarcastic, which we love.  We have this ongoing family joke that your favorite ice cream is vanilla, mine is chocolate and Daddy's is mint.  Daddy HATES mint ice cream but you get such a kick out of insisting that he loves it.  It is all-around fun being just around you and seeing what you will come up with next.

Happy THIRD Birthday, Miss Lyla Grace.  We love you.